How Do You Know?
by owlkid
Summary: Tweek's world was unsteady, a stack of cards, a glass house; associating his vice with the other boy like it was assisted suicide. Creek, Craig x Tweek. Complete.
1. the futile

**Author's Note: **my second writing up on here! gasp. i, uh, wrote this on a whim. i don't know where i'm going with this story, if anywhere. i just finished reading great gatsby &i'm reading catcher in the rye &i just wanted to experiment with more imagery &personality. frankly, i'm a nervous fuck &publishing things is terrifying, so suggestions welcome/collabs etc., just, uh, message me. i don't own south park, blah blah blah.

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It was all so pointless. He felt his mind struggling with the thick confusion of the pills. He sipped at his coffee spastically yet monotonously and felt his stomach's instantaneous desire to reject it. The medication, they said, would help. But past the thick, he felt his muted anxiety, tirelessly churning.

The drugs were a distractor, nothing more. His thoughts "cycled", they called it. Death, coffee, obsessive, compulsive, worry... He was afraid. At times he thought it was everything else. But in the dark of night, he knew it was himself. Back in the dark crevices of his brain leaked doubt.

The popular opinion was that love is beautiful and innocent. But to Tweek, it made his stomach churn and his bones hurt. More than anything, his mind cycled Craig , Craig, Craig. It was exhausting, and his eyelids hurt as he found himself stuck on the subject. Shaking from head to toe, Tweek stood up and trembled towards his open window. Somehow, he managed to light a cigarette. Clenching the filter hard between his lips, he gasped the taste in.

It was Craig who had introduced him to the habit. Tweek remembered the blue-hat clad boy at a snide thirteen, laughing at Tweek's sputtering as he took his first drag. They'd known each other for as long as they could remember, but they didn't _really_know each other until middle school. Craig, monotonous and uncaring, had skulked into the office during his first week of middle school and seated himself in the childish plastic seat next to the frail blonde. Tweek was waiting for counseling; the school was initially frightened by his nervous habits, acted politely concerned for a while, then simply gave up. Craig, again, had met trouble by overuse of the middle finger. The coffee-addled boy had been more of a nervous wreck than usual. The office was pressuring for Tweek. Craig raised an eyebrow at the sickly pale preteen as he rattled the pair of chairs due to his shaking. A large tremor ran through the blonde and he choked out repeatedly "idon'tknowidon'tknowidon'tknow". Tweek suddenly seemed to notice the boy next to him and his eyes widened. His lips parted as if he had something to say, but the administrator shouted his name and he jerked out of his seat without another word.

As lunch rolled around the same day, Tweek had arrived at his usually abandoned table to find Craig seated across from Tweak's usual spot, eyes glazed over. Tweek hesitantly sat down and sipped coffee from his endless thermos. He silently noticed Craig's stubbornly set jaw. Tweek stared blankly at his bruised, bony knuckles for a few moments before allowing himself to steal another glance at the other boy. Eyebrows knotted in frustration and mouth in a hard line, he was staring intently at something unknown. Suddenly he locked eyes with the blonde, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered across Craig's eyes and as Tweek's lips nervously twitched out curse words, he noted the ghost of an odd smile on the hat-clad boy's face.

Chuckling emptily, Tweek smiled, chewing his cigarette. Following that day, he had found Craig waiting for him every lunch. Initially, Craig had been afraid he would murder him, and he had sat silently at the table, turning over his prospective murder plans. He hadn't trusted him then. He still didn't trust much. He didn't trust most "facts", let alone people. He didn't even trust himself. Tweek's world was unsteady, a stack of cards, a glass house. The dust of turmoil never settled in his mind. He had many fears. His therapist asked recently if he was afraid to die, but it wasn't that. It was the fact that you never know. Anything. The world was unpredictable. He would never know how he would die or when, or what would happen in the future, and how was he supposed to prepare? Nothing was certain. Everytime he thought he was getting better, improving somehow mentally, that thought collapsed him. He feared the unknown, and that was everything. Smoking was his way of coping, of perhaps knowing something, a way out of this life, an expected twist.

He snatched the cigarette from his teeth and rubbed it out furiously against the bottom of his trash can. As he glanced at the clock (4:00 AM), his lip twitched. The only sad, sure thing, he noted, was that his best friend (and strictly nothing else,) was the only thing he had ever desired.


	2. the art of suicide

**author's note: **iiii am doing shitty in chemistry because of this fucking story. instead of taking notes, i write. hahahah wish me luck on my test next week. by this chapter i hope that all of you have used context clues to discover that tweek is really fucking paranoid &the concept of unpredictability makes him go batshit insane. also, in case you didn't realize, the chapter titles are song titles. they're kind of abstract but all the best things are. now comes time to introduce some craig. this chapter takes place days or weeks after the last one; it doesn't matter really. tweek worries all night more nights than not.

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Maybe the world would end today, Tweek silently mused, sipping at his thermos as he tiredly noticed how attractive he found Craig in this moment, just a hint of stubble shading his fair complexion and- he began to rub his risk bone nervously.

He hoped the world would end soon. The lies the teacher fed them washed over him, numbing him as strong as any painkillers; they lapped at his ears. His brain desperately throbbed and the boy absentmindedly tugged at his hair. At that moment he wanted nothing more than for acid to hungrily devour his brain. World, please, please end. He shifted in his desk. As he stole a glance at Craig, the boy in question turned slightly and winked at the frail blonde. "Ack!" he spewed nervously. He dug his nails into the skin of his arm, gritting his teeth.

The hardest part of his Craig-liking was that he not only had to worry over the unpredictability of his own life, but Craig's as well. He couldn't take it, couldn't trust the world to be kind to his Craig (no possessive pronouns, he hastily corrected himself), where would Tweek be if he was mutilated by the grill of some fucker's car, what if he found himself suffocating, swathed in the cotton of his bedthings, and the gnomes, god- he found himself breathing rapidly, as if his lungs were confused. If the world did not end, Tweek decided, his death would be the uncertainty; it was gnawing at him gradually, rotting his insides like poison. If the world ended today,mat least he could be sure.

"Mrs. Meyer is a fuck," Craig declared to the blonde as the pair shuffled towards the alleyway of the school to spend lunch.

"What the f-fuck does that even mean?" Tweek asked, eyes wide as he took desperate gulps of his coffee.

"She's just, like, a fuck. I don't know, when you look at her, you just can't help but to think 'man, what a stupid fuck', you know?"

"I guess? Gngh she's probably teaching us the wrong formulas so we fail high school so she can feel good about herself in spite of her failing marriage," he squeaked. Narrowing his eyes, he continued. "Math doesn't exist."

"Yeah, fuck math," Craig agreed. They both emitted a breathy laugh.

"Ngh, school is pressure," sighed Tweek, pushing hard against the old, barely-used alley door. The only people who regularly occupied the area were the goth kids. You would get the occasional freshman smoking to be cool, or a disgustingly frisky couple; South Park as a whole failed miraculously at enforcing normal, good-moraled things. His wide eyes flicked to the goths as they talked and brooded, smoke rising like a chimney from their huddle.

Craig rifled through his school bag and fished out a pack of Marlboros. "Your lunch, sir," he proclaimed after a few moments, mockingly cordial, as he handed the other boy a fuming cigarette. Tweek spurted a quick thanks before jamming it in his mouth and inhaling eagerly, as if the ribbons of smoke were his life blood. He savoured the trembling feeling that ran through his veins.

Craig puffed casually, the smoke blanketing him. The tall, raven-haired boy regarded the coffee-addled teen's worried orbs. The knowing smile impressed on Craig's lips both soothed and slightly unnerved him. "How will we ever get out of this labyrinth?" offered the noirette. Craig liked quotes. It never ceased to amaze him that with a few eloquently strung words, there were ways of describing the most difficult emotions. Tweek often tended to imagine Craig as an eloquent romantic. He grimaced slightly at the crippling effects of his Not-Knowing. His beat-up Vans crunched a few gravelly pebbles as he moved to lightly grasp Craig's forearm. The motion was subtle but desperate.

It went without saying that the blonde had issues, however Craig never uttered a word to the other concerning that topic. He always seemed to simply know without asking what his current qualms were, and Tweek accepted that greatfully. He attempted a twitchy smile. The dull pain of his poison-loathing filled brain tapered off slightly as he took in the sight of his friend. Craig was real; he hoped this with every bone in his body.

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**end note:** three cheers for caring, smart craig! don't worry, asshole craig will also make this fic. next chapter there's also kenny. because i love kenny c: all of the characters are going to be witty, hilarious fucks because those are the only people i like. review n' stuff!


	3. the truth is, you should lie with me

**author's note:** hi, this chapter's been jotted down for a while now, but i've been busy going insane, sorry bout thaaat. but i now return to your irregularly scheduled fic.

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Navigating the crowded halls of South Park High, Craig felt a hand force its way into his back pocket, cupping his butt through the layers. He whirled around. "Stop molesting me, shithole," he said to his hoodie-clad friend, barely containing a smile. "Your ass looked lonely," the blonde explained, grinning in a way that was decidedly shit-eating. He fell into step beside the noirette. "D'you have, like, a couple'a dollars?"  
"Why." he demanded in his still-somewhat-nasally voice.  
"Becaaaaauuuse I want pizza! From Lil Caesars!" he explained in a fake whiny voice. "You can't deny the Lil Sleazers!" he prompted, placing a hand on Craig's hat. "Oh. Well, no. I gave my change and shit to Tweek for cigs. He's like a chimney, man; I swear it's like suicide." Concern flickered across his face briefly.  
"What are we supposed to eat after we smoke copious amounts of weed?" Kenny asked in mock horror. "I have Poptarts in my car, Craig offered. The blonder, gaunter member of the twosome cheered. "It's trailer park Christmas!"

They trudged into the parking lot, trampling wrappers and homework, making their way to Craig's mediocre car. "Shotgun!" Kenny announced sarcastically, diving into the seat and beginning his search for aforementioned toaster pastries. As Craig pulled out of the parking lot, he sat up, a box in each hand. "A pack of Poptarts is 420 calories. Coincidence?"  
"Decidedly not," replied Craig easily.  
"Pizza's still better though," Kenny sighed, sticking out his lower lip and turning his gaze toward Craig. "Stop liking Tweek more than me."  
They came to an abrupt stop. At first, Kenny was alarmed, but he then realized they were idling outside his crumbling, lower-class abode. "Fuck, sorry," said Craig, "I was- distracted." He yanked out the keys and slumped over the wheel. "It's just, I feel like I have to look after him. It's strange, but I've just sort of always thought that he needs me."  
For a moment, Kenny looked directly into his eyes. The hooded boy's pupils glinted like an old stone in the river for a moment. "Maybe you need him."  
He broke contact and grinned before he slipped out of the car. "I, however, _definitely_ need thousands of calories worth of Poptarts, so please step into my lovely place of residence."

Compared to the rest of the house, Kenny's room was pristine. The majority of the furniture had been scooped off the front lawns of unknown families who had discarded them, already tired and worn. His bed was constructed of two mattresses piled on top of one another, topped with a pile of thin blankets and deflated pillows; a faded loveseat and a stained, squashy chair sat in one corner, a cardboard box between the two serving as one would call a coffee table, but which was really used for smoking. Neat stacks of odd, garage sale books populated the floor. Opposite his bed was a closet, missing a door and sparsely filled with worn-looking clothing. Craig flopped onto the couch while Kenny strolled over to pick up a worn copy of the Bible. Ignoring the strange look from Craig, he opened it to reveal a hollow book containing a pipe along with various fat nugs. "My parents still could give less of a shit about my smoking habits," he explained, "but they've since discovered that they can trade my valuables for booze. He made a face of disgust and slumped into the couch.  
As Kenny packed a bowl, something caught Craig's eye amongst the blankets. Standing up and snatching it, he could already feel Kenny scowling at him. He clutched the toy. "Dude, is this a Hello Kitty?" Craig smirked, rubbing the stuffed animal against his cheek mockingly. Kenny grimaced and pulled up his hood to shade his face.  
"Butters gave me it, dude," he said solemnly.  
"How cuuute," Craig crooned, nestling the plushie into the couch alongside Kenny before falling into the chair again.  
So what if Butters is a thing I like?" Kenny demanded, knitting his eyebrows slightly. "Let's just fucking get faded," he deadpanned.

He wondered what Tweek was doing right now. He pictured him curled up cutely on his bed, freaking out over the news and chain-smoking. He thought he smiled at that point. Tweek was nice, he decided. He had nice... hands. And eyes. Big, nice eyes. Why hadn't Kenny passed that hit yet? Wait, how long ago was that.  
"Dude what fucking time is it." Craig stated as he sank further into Kenny's chair. The hooded boy looked up from packing the bubbler blearily.  
"Whofuckingcares."  
"Because... Fuck man I dunno. Hey, I'm hanging out with Tweek tomorrow," Craig said with a dopey smile, twirling the tassels of his chullo as he stared at the smoke wafting about the room.  
"Yeah, Tweek. He's a..." Kenny paused to take a hit, the weed crackling, the water pipe churning. "A thing," he finished, blowing smoke rings while passing Craig the pipe.  
"He _is_. He has. Nice hands," he muttered, taking a large pull of the bubbler. In his haze, he found his mind wandering to the less-appropriate nice things Tweek may have.

"He seems like he'd be great at sex," the blonde said matter-of-factly." Craig choked on a mouthful of smoke. "Sick, dude!" He exclaimed in between racking coughs.  
"Wha_aaa_t? Kenny drawled lazily, reaching for the pipe. The noirette's red, squinty eyes widened to normal size."  
"You can't just say shit like that, it's, like, Tweek."  
"_You're_ the one thinks about his hands, and probably all the naughty places you could put them," Kenny taunted, winking. Craig shoved the other boy with flagrant disregard for the smoking device. Luckily, it landed without injury on the carpet, spilling water onto the already-stained floor. The pungent scent of marijuana emitted from the wet spot. Kenny snatched up the bubbler and scowled.  
"I am not," Craig defended, sounding like a fifth grader. But at the thought of it, his high brain provided some surprisingly welcome images. He cringed and shifted in his seat. Kenny noticed and cracked a large, crooked smile.

"You fucking horny fuck."  
"Dude shutup. I just... needa take a fucking. Shower."  
"A shower in Tweek's coffee-scented cum?" Kenny suggested with fake innocence, cackling afterwards.  
"Shut up," said Craig automatically. He did not think about Tweek like that. He did not think about Tweek. Actually, he thought about Tweek a lot, he realized.

"Tweek." He stated.  
Kenny blankly stared at the other teen with glazed eyes.  
"Is he a thing _I_ like?" asked Craig slowly.  
"Yeah dude," said Kenny, yawning.  
"Ok," said Craig, melting into the couch for a nap.

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**end note: **i like smoking. i like it a lot. but EY, i know the majority of readers are like 12. don't start thaaat young. it makes you forget shit, &cough. but i've wanted to write a smoking scene, wooooo! yay, slight asshole craig! don't worry, that's the meanest he gets in my brain. c: i love kenny, I LOVE HIM. so, he's going to be in this. deaal widdit~ also a hint of bunny, if you don't mind. yesss so craig dopily realizes he possibly likes tweek! next chapter is them hanging out. cue cutely awkwardness! if you read this fic, i love you. mwah, mwah! xox


	4. time to pretend

**author's note: **holy quick update, batman! y'all are lucky assholes- wait for the guilt trip- especially since i have no computer. yes indeed, i write this during school instead of passing class and type it up on my ipad instead of homework. but hey, i like this story. in this chapter, you get a lot of craig thought and not enough tweek thought. i sowweeee. i promise much, much more tweeky thoughts next chapter. ok, vamos!

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Craig knocked on Tweek's front door and smiled as he heard the faint, telltale shriek followed by clattering footsteps. In a few moments the door was cracked open, a large green orb inspecting him anxiously. The long, spindly hand that gripped the door twitched before flinging it open.

"Ngh-H-Hey Craig," greeted the blonde with an unsure half-smile. At moments like this he felt like his heart could snap; the strange mix of overwhelming warmth Craig's presence supplied mixed with the dread of his suspected being a burden. Regardless, the chullo-clad teen wasted no time in bringing Tweek into a tight hug. It was only a bro hug, he convinced himself quickly, counting five seconds mentally before unclasping his hands from the boy's frail frame. Bringing a hand to his head, he stepped further inside the door and glanced around.

"Parents working?" inquired Craig. "Always," the other boy muttered darkly. It was well known to Craig by now that Tweek's parents quite frankly couldn't give less of a shit about the boy, yet another reason why Craig needed to be there for him. Not for any selfish, indulgent reasons. Just to help. Right?

Tweek began leading the way to a set of stairs leading to his "living room". In reality, it was a basement, but the concept of a basement scared the living shit out of Tweek, so after some furniture placed and acquired by Kenny and a change of name, the room was deemed fit for the paranoid teen's inhabitance. He could pretend it was safe down there. He pretended a lot of things.

As they approached the flight, the pair came to a halt. Tweek looked up at Craig, flashing him a desperate look. In reply, the taller teen showed his teeth in a brief, sloppy smile and kneeled down. Tweek hastily scrambled onto his back, digits grasping the noirette's bony shoulders. While Tweek put up with the basement, the stair were his downfall, the one thing that could never fail to make him feel unnervingly worthless. The first time Craig had come over he'd been doubled over in fits of laughter at the sight of Tweek bumping down the carpeted stairs on his butt, taking each stair individually. Piggybacking him was the agreed way to prevent both head trauma and rug burn.

The practice was, by now, routine, but presently Craig wondered what Tweek felt, being this close to Craig, his thighs being easily supported by his hands. To ever make the boy feel like a burden... Craig swallowed the idea away. He had descended the stairs carefully and had now hastily kneeled down for Tweek to lightly amble off his back. He scolded himself mentally as he felt colour flush his cheeks, choosing to busy himself with fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Clenching two between his middle and forefinger, he smiled in Tweek's direction. "Camel Crush double menthol!" he announced in an overly excited tone.

"My favourite," said Tweek earnestly, poking out his tongue slightly at Craig. The raven-haired teen held the thing between his lips, lighting it and puffing, lighting Tweek's with the smoldering end. Tweek closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he smoked was one of the only times Craig would describe him as peaceful; his eyes flicked to the flushed lips of the other. He'd never thought to associate the word 'cute' with 'cigarette' before then. Tweek, looking relaxed, made his way to the tv in its stand, in front of which sat several chairs. The PS3 bleeped on with a button touch and he plopped onto the floor, unravelling controller cords in his lap. Craig joined him.

Videogames, Craig assumed, were usually just videogames; but this videogame time with Tweek he regarded as a delicate symphony of accidental knee touches, of his heart jumping as the other shoved him for winning again. It was a familiar feeling, as if natural, there all along, just below the surface. They continued the mind-numbing button-mashing paired with easy chain smoking until Tweek emitted a breathy, short sigh and Craig threw down his controller. The two tipped back onto the carpet to lay with their hands being their head. Tweek felt for his thermos and awkwardly waterfalled the substance into his mouth from a laying position. Twitching at his failure to be normal, he looked to Craig, whose lips were turned up slightly. The blonde's lips twitched upwards.

"Thanks." he stated simply. Craig didn't ask. He never did. The eyes told him everything; they spoke of self-doubt and fragility, but they sparkled reassurance in the reflection of Craig's face. Tweek reached into the pocket of the other teen and clasped yet another cigarette. Clasping it between his lips, he leaned in... His cigarette tapped Craig's, setting it alight.

Craig's thoughts whirled; this frail, struggling boy, associating his vice with him as if it were assisted suicide. He felt the menthol chill his mouth and the two blew smoke in each other's faces, letting out all the emotions sealed in that unknown place inside, under the thin layers of skin. The game then proceeded to remind them of its presence with a bleep, and they both bolted upright, looking away from the other, Tweak emitting a squeal and Craig sighing smoke reams as they returned to their realities.

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**end note:** this chapter honestly was shit when i first wrote it, i'm glad it turned out ok. three cheers for awkward cute crush-y chapters. i do not support smoking cigarettes whatsoever, also. they are pointless &deadly. if you're suicidal, like tweek, or don't care, like craig, then go ahead &die i guess man. next chapter is a little more angst, since it's tweek, but if you've gotten this far in the fic, i assume you enjoy that. i believe there is two chapters left! we're almost done with this writing venture. although, stick around, i've got more plot bunnies floating around. ;) read, review, alert, whatever! te amo!


	5. two birds stoned at once

**author's note:** guuuuuuyth this is the second to last chapter! but i've got plot bunnies like cray cray so stay tuned ;) mmmmh, there are plot/mood hints in the imagery &shit so read in a little &you'll find it to be an enjoyable experience! o;

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Tweek lay in bed, eyes shut, covers over his head, completely still. He calmly regarded the violet hue of his thin eyelids. Between fits of sleeplessness, he had dreamt. In his dream, he was drifting out at sea, completely alone in the eerily calm waters. A feeling of hopelessness had washed over him until he saw it - a handsome, sleek raven hovering in the abyss above. His hand reached for the raven, wanting to follow it, to be in its presence, but as he reached, spindly branches winded out behind the bird. On the branches hung orbs of glass. The balls seemed fragile, yet somehow deadly, and he felt himself shying away from the raven. The bird crooned mournfully before the world plunged into black, and he was alone again.

He shuddered and writhed out of his covers. It was almost five in the morning, the sun's rays not yet licking at the horizon.

He decided he would go to the park. Stumbling out into the gloo, street lights reflecting off his pale face, his feet guided him towards the abandoned primary school. The grass was draped in the tears of the night; he walked, trance-like, past the fog-shrouded buildings, edifices. The mist swirled idly, drifting with no purpose. The boy found himself struggling not to trip over his feet, the world solemnly churning. When he finally approached the play structures, he halted. And stared. To him, the structures were antiques, the sand below a pedestal, the water ringlets the dust collecting. The museum would not change if the whole world perished. It would forever stand calm, waiting for a patron. Tweek obliged, hauling himself onto the equipment. Nostalgia warmed his bones and he felt the ghost of a smile. He perched at the top of the slide, poised as if ready to launch. There he idled, never ceasing to think about a boy.

"What a nice morning for looking hopeless at a playground," quipped a cheerful voice from behind. Tweek's response to this was to yelp in alarm and throw his hands behind him. He felt him knuckle collide with a wall of flesh and he whirled around timidly. Crouching behind him was a Kenny with a newly bloody nose. Ignoring Tweek's apologies, he swept him into a flighty hug, fingertips just brushing backs. The two sat face-to-face, pretzel-legged, knees touching. "Sleep often?" asked Kenny.

"Never," choked Tweek.

"Do you always come to elementary schools to brood?"

Tweek gulped, blinking nervously. Looking away he said, "It makes me feel safe."

He regarded the flinty, knowing look in Kenny's eyes before looking down at his palms and continuing. "These are things that will never change, despite everything. It's amazing. It's real."

"Real?" prompted Kenny interestedly, tilting his head to the side.

Tweek's sheet-pale face speckled with marks of sleep deprivation turned serious. Monotonely, he answered, "How do you know- h-how can you be sure of anything? How can you trust yourself to make the right decision?" He quivered. Kenny cupped his knee with his palm, looking into Tweek's emeralds. "There are things that you will just know."

"Craig." said Kenny simply.

The blonde's mouth opened slightly and a rose hue spread across his cheekbones.

"Are you saying-"

"I've been watching you two for a while. This isn't a thing that's tangible, that can be analyzed and overanalyzed. You need to live. You need to make yourself.

He's perfect for you, you know." Kenny's lips formed into an honest smile, just a hint of pearly whites.

Tweek felt a wetness at the corner of his eyes. He jabbed at it with a finger as he trembled happily.

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**end note: **baaaawww how cute. i LOVE kenny as like this smart, experienced dude giving people advice c': kenny da love doctor. after this next chapter i'm doing a bunny story o; happy summer errywunnnn.


	6. eating a book

**author's note:** i am terribly nervous over this.

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The dew hung gloomily on the leaves of a bush just outside of the Tucker's house. Tweek looked around, looking anxious and desperate, teeth clenched. His breath sighed heavily into a mist as he rang the doorbell. The overcast sky wavered menacingly overhead, taking the afternoon. Pale digits appeared at the door's high window and the lock began churning. He gulped. As Craig opened the door, Tweek sighed.

Craig swept the blonde into a strong hug, nestling his chin on top of the flyaway strands. "It's been weeks since I've seen you," said the chullo-clad teen in an odd voice.

"I've been busy passing school and going insane," said Tweek with a slight smile but a deadpanned tone.

"We. Are going. To make a fort," announced Craig as they stepped inside, walking inside and into Craig's room.

"F-Fine," choked Tweek with a strained tone. His mind flashed so rapidly; the playground with Kenny, the dream, the sleepless nights. He wanted it so badly, hoped with all his might. His stomach floated. Just to be with him. To exist on their own plane, assuredly real and so tranquil. To combat the not-knowing with a fact.

As they stacked the pillows along the foot of Craig's bed to the corner of the room, fingers brushed and cheeks painted hushed pink as they faced walls. Craig kept a conversation, his voice almost a lull, Tweek answering softly back. As they unfolded blankets, they grinned as they faced each other, a palpable driving force between the two boys.

When the task was done, they padded in on palms and knees into the cotton cave. The twitchy blonde leaned onto a pillow stack and Craig filed in after, knees sprawled haphazardly into Tweek's ankles; the boy had his chin resting on his knees.

They sat and pondered the other, Craig with his strange ghost smile. Tweek felt nearly ill; the pressure of a god-damn crush and it was such a long shot. Tweek struggled for confidence and he flinched. In response, Craig stroked the boy's forearm and smiled; the gloom hid the others' shy reaction. He felt a warmth unlike anything else; it swathed him appealingly.

"Craig."

"Mmmm," acknowledged Craig, tracing circles on his calf.

"H-How do you... know?" The thoughts cycled, consuming his mind, his throat, his stomach, devouring him like acid.

In response, Craig smiled. "Some things... you just feel."

Tweek wrinkled his nose cutely in surprise.

"C'mere, Tweek," said Craig in a husky tone, hooking a finger gently under his chin.

His mind raced and his nerves ran high and his bones ached towards this other, this boy that made his skin feel tight and he mused at the reality of the situation as he opened his mouth slightly and leaned in, feeling the boy's breath on his face. The air was electric as warm, plush lips met strong, soft ones. Tweek brought a hand to the noirette's neck and huddled close, shuddering in the moment with joy like none else. In the gloom, they bumped noses and brushed lips attempting to peck one another's. Eventually, they spilled out onto the rug outside the fort. Curling on the floor side by side, facing the other, nearly touching, the shaky boy leaned in for a kiss. And the noirette's embraced his, a hint of teeth. And it wasn't perfect, but it was real.

And Tweek believed.

And Tweek knew.

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**end note: **thankz for reading this, i'm scared of the ending. i hope explained it aufhfhfhdjsm /goes to nervously vomit


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